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Fenris had moved back into his estate in High Town years later, this time with Charlotte Hawke at his side. Varric was Viscount, now, and things were peaceful, at least as peaceful as they ever got in Kirkwall.
After Anders destroyed the Chantry and they’d been forced on the run, Carver had taken over the Amell estate. He’d offered to move, deferring instead to Charlotte, but she wouldn’t hear it. Enough time had passed, she’d said, that the home belonged to Carver, now. But Fenris’s former abode had been left empty ever since they left.
It was a strange place for Fenris. So much had happened in that house, both bad and good. More than anything, it was the place he had found his freedom. It had been his idea to purchase it, and Charlotte had been more than happy to oblige.
It was not the rundown pit he remembered it being - Charlotte had seen to that. They’d renovated most of the estate until it looked brand new. The only thing left was their bedroom. Fenris could have cared less about design, but Charlotte had other plans. She’d asked him about every single detail, and today was no different.
They’d made their way to the most expensive furniture store in Hightown. The shop owner greeted them with all the accustomed pleasantries, but it was clear - to Fenris anyways - that she was less than happy about having an elf in her shop. Things had improved slightly since Inquisitor Levallan’s reign. It was no longer in fashion to be openly antagonistic to the elves. Opinions were to be kept to the privacy of one’s mind or home. Still, it was something, he supposed. He huffed at the woman in reply to her greetings.
The owner turned to Charlotte, acting as if Fenris wasn’t even there. “What can I do for you, Serrah?”
Charlotte explained, and they were directed to an area that featured bedroom furniture. All of it was hand-made with the finest materials. Each piece was one of a kind, so they were told. They just looked like beds to Fenris.
The woman encouraged them to look around and let her know if they needed anything. She left, but not before giving Fenris a once over.
He groaned.
“What a bitch,” remarked Charlotte. “Ooh! Look at this one!” She rushed over to a bed with a rustic style bed frame. Rustic was in this year, so he’d been told.
He followed Charlotte, stopping close enough to her to be heard without others hearing. “Why are you bothering me with this?”
“You’re being rude again,” she replied in a sing-song manner.
“That is not what I meant.”
“Then what, exactly, did you mean, my love?”
He looked at the bed. It was fine enough, but he felt no preference for it. “I have no eye for such things.”
She forced a smile. “Well, then look at this as an opportunity to develop one.”
It had been like this for months. Every minute detail she ran by him. He’d told her over and over again that he didn’t care. The home they were building together was important to him, but he was more than happy to let her choose the paint and the furnishings and the decorations and all of it. He just wanted her to be happy with it. He didn’t understand.
“Why do you care so much what I think?” he’d asked.
“Because, Fenris,” she’d said “I want you to have a say in our home. A choice.” She walked around to the other side of the bed, tracing the carved lines along its frame. She stopped, the mattress separating them. “I want it to feel like your home.”
He stood, confused. “It already feels like home, Charlotte. The details don’t matter.”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
He chuckled. “I have laid with you in tents and hovels and estates. I have traveled with you through most of the known world: Orlais, Ferelden, Tevinter, and back again to Kirkwall. All that time, we never once had a house to call our own, but I felt more at home than I have ever felt in the whole of my life. That is my choice.”
Her mouth quirked, just a bit, before she set it in a firm line again. “This isn’t about that,” she said, “of course what bed frame we choose won’t make it our home. Of course you’re the only thing that really matters, but that’s not what I mean when I say home.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I want you to choose something that you like. That you want. Something permanent!”
He reeled. “You say that word like you doubt my commitment.”
“Gah!” Charlotte yelled, her hands in the air, “That’s not what I mean!”
The shop owner was looking at them, now.
Charlotte took a deep breath. “I just… I don’t ever want you to feel like you don’t have a choice.”
He got it, finally. “Oh!” No, he didn’t care, but he finally understood the deep care that she was taking to include him. He looked around the store, eyeing the various beds. He tried to think about what he liked, and what might look good in their bedroom. There were beds in all styles. Some were intricate and gaudy, he guessed after the Orlesian fashion, but there was something about them that reminded him of Tevinter. What few opinions he had, he knew he didn’t want those. He continued scanning the room. He spotted a bed in the corner. It was a simplistic make, light wood and a curved headboard and footboard. He pointed. “What about that one?”
Charlotte’s face lit up as she followed his finger to the bed in question. She smiled. “It’s simple.”
“Is simple bad?”
“Not at all,” she smiled. “Shall we give it a try?”
She walked over to it and flung herself down on the mattress. Fenris wasn’t accustomed to shopping like this, but he couldn’t imagine the owner would be pleased. Judging by her face, he was right.
“Come on!” said Charlotte, patting the space beside her.
He shrugged and stretched out next to her on the mattress. It was very comfortable. Laying next to her, he reached out his fingers until they brushed against the back of her hand. At his prompting, she entwined their fingers together.
“I like this one,” she said.
“I do, too,” he replied. He felt heavy and content. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For always giving me the choice.”
Charlotte shrugged, and used the momentum of her movement to snuggle closer to him. “I’m just sorry you didn’t always have it.”
He smiled. “I do now. And I’m deeply glad to have chosen you.” He pressed his head against hers and relaxed.
He didn’t realize that they’d fallen asleep until he was shaken awake by the shopkeep. “Serrah!” she gasped, exasperated, “you must get up!” He sat up, confused, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Charlotte stirred beside him. “This is a reputable establishment! You can’t sleep here!”
Charlotte sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I think we’ve made our choice. Wouldn’t you agree, Fenris?”
He nodded. “We’ll take it,” he said to the owner.
“I’ll set up the delivery, then,” she said through pursed lips.
“I think you made the right choice,” said Charlotte.
“I think so too,” he said. He leaned over until they met in the middle of the bed and he kissed her.